


let me see what no one else can

by plinys



Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: F/F, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: When Blanche met Candela their ideals insistently clashed. The academic versus the battle crazed. However, when Professor Willow assigns them a project together, Blanche must learn to put aside her preconceived notions about the leader of Team Valor.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radialarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/gifts).



“This is Candela. She’s going to be the new leader for Team Valor.” 

Professor Willow pointedly doesn’t say what happens to the old leader of Team Valor. 

There hadn’t been one when Blanche was first recruited to be the leader of Team Mystic about a year ago, so she hadn’t asked. Spark had already been there, the sunny leader of Team Instinct, but when Blanche had asked him - with all the curiosity of an intellectual, he had just brushed her off with some comment about legal matters and shady business deals.

Very vague.

Not that it mattered in the end, because Team Valor had been without a leader for too long. 

Long enough that Blanche was certain one would never come. 

Until suddenly Candela was there. 

For a second, she was excited, a new colleague. 

More knowledge to share with the group. The notion had excited her, long enough to ask the same question she had asked Spark upon meeting him. 

“Where did you teach at before coming here?” 

Only instead of the answer she’d gotten all those months ago from Spark - the enthusiasm, the passion, in which he’d talked about his students - all she got was a shake of Candela’s head.

“I’m not really about the whole teaching thing. It’s more about doing, right? Getting out there, getting your hands dirty.” 

“That’s an interesting approach,” Blanche says. Honestly, she was unable to remember the last time she really got her  _ hands dirty _ . Blanche prefered the quiet serenity of the laboratory, not the mess of the field. “I’m sure whatever university you did research for must have-”

“Oh, I didn’t - I’m not an academic.”

“Pardon?”

Even Spark seemed surprised by this, a wary, “Professor?” falling from his lips.

Thankfully Professor Willow takes the opportunity to speak up. “Candela controlled almost all of the gym’s in the Southern region when I found her.”

When he found her.

“I controlled more than just the gyms,” Candela says, with something like pride in her voice. 

Though Blanche is finding herself unable to figure out why. 

“You know, life isn’t just about being good at battling. As a team leader you need to be-”

“The best,” Candela finishes for her. “Which I am.”

“That I seriously doubt.”

\---

The thing is, she and Spark have known each other for what feels like forever. 

Though in reality is more like a year. In either case they have a rhythm down.

Despite having drastically different working styles, they flow together. They can work in the same space with only minor interruptions.

Well, interruptions from Spark excitedly jabbering on and on about his newest egg project - or as Spark fondly calls them  _ his future children  _ \- with Blanche only required to make minimal noises as confirmation in order to keep him rambling and not trying to see what she’s working on.

Whereas Candela-

“Don’t touch that,” Blanche says harshly, grabbing Candela’s hand away from what was sensitive material and highly volatile material.

Candela just grins at her. “What’s it do?”

“That’s none of your business.” 

“Come on, we both work for Professor Willow, why not share the uh… What did you call it before? The ‘wealth of information’,” Candela pushes. Though she does not pull her hand away. “I mean, unless you’re scared that me knowing your secret would mean my team stealing all your gyms away, which in that case…”

Blanche snorts.

“As it is very unlikely situation would ever occur,” she shakes her head. “The fact of the matter is, someone of your intelligence, wouldn’t even be able to understand what I’m working on.”

“Excuse me!”

“She doesn’t mean it like that,” Spark buts in, and for a second Blanche had even forgot he was there. So consumed with Candela being in her space, the point of contact still there between them.

Blanche drops her hand like it’s hot. 

Turning away from Candela and back to her work.

She does her best to tune out Spark playing damage control. Insisting again and again that Blanche is just protective of her work, and that Candela shouldn’t take it personal. That it has nothing at all to do with the fact that she’s new here, or that she’s the only one between them that doesn’t have a Master’s Degree in Pokemon studies. 

Let alone a Bachelor’s Degree.

(Because apparently brute strength was something the Professor considered when hiring team leaders, rather than the quality of their research.)

She can’t help herself.

Even when the logical workings of her  brain says to just continue ignoring Spark and Candela’s conversation and to get back to her work. 

Instead, she says, in the most droll tone she can manage not even looking up from her books. “No, Spark’s wrong, that was exactly what I was implying.” 

\---

She’s almost certain she can just avoid Candela. 

It works. 

Mostly.

There’s some passive aggressiveness around the lab. A few doors slammed shut a bit too quickly, books set down on the counter tops a bit too loudly, but otherwise-

“Candela and Blanche can lead the event.”

She blinks once and then once again.

“Why can’t Spark-”

“I’ve got to go to Texas for that weekend,” Spark says, mouthing  _ sorry _ in her direction afterwards. “Taking Go with me too. It’s a breeder’s conference.” 

Go, the undergraduate assistant to Professor Willow, gives them an apologetic half wave. 

Sometimes Blanche forgot he was even there. 

Most the time. 

“Oh,” Blanche says. Her eyes flicking to where Candela stands. 

The other woman’s actually smiling.

Or maybe not smiling exactly.

Not the way Spark smiles a full beaming face, but more like a smirk, an excited smirk. If that was even a thing.

“Is that going to be a problem,” Professor Willow asks. 

Candela answers for her, “No. Not at all.” 

\---

“It’s a charity event. Trainers come, get free supplies, we put on a few optional instructional seminars-”

“I think we should have a tournament. Let the trainers battle it out.”

“Typically we only battle at gyms, due to the regulations in this region-”

“Okay, but nobody ever listens to those rules.”

That gives Blanche pause.

“Pardon?”

“Wait, are you telling me you’ve never battled outside of a gym? Don’t you ever get the urge? You make awkward eye contact with someone across the street and the next thing you know, you’re calling out your Charizard to beat them into the dirt.”

There’s an appropriate response to be had, but all Blanche can manage to do is blurt out, “I don’t have a Charizard.”

“Well, no, you’ve got a Squirtle or whatever-”

“Blastoise.” 

“Or whatever,” Candela repeats with a wave of her hand. “The point is. People like to battle, battling is how we get stronger and following every rule is… Well, it’s boring.” 

“Maybe some people like following the rules.”

“You mean, you?”

\---

The first time her phone rings in the middle of the night she ignores it.

Rolls slightly over to see the smiling face of Candela staring up at her, before she flips the phone upside down, ceasing the flashing of the screen.

That hadn’t stopped her.

Candela has a habit of doing this. A habit of calling Blanche at inconvenient times. 

The last had been in the middle of a research session with her team, the calls coming so incessantly that eventually Blanche had picked up the phone. Only to have a conversation that could be classified as trivial at  _ best _ .

It had been about getting lunch the next day. 

A simple email would have sufficed. Or even a text, not a -

There’s no way she’s going to be able to sleep now, she knows it. The memory of the last time this happened, and her natural curiosity, has her rolling back over to where the phone sits on the night stand.

Blanche’s hand hovers over the phone for one brief moment of indecision, before she says “Fuck it,” and turns the phone over.

Candela is still calling her. 

Or has called her again. 

In either case it doesn’t matter, because she slides the phone across, causing Candela’s smiling face to disappear as she shoves the phone up to her ear. 

Asking, “Why are you like this,” seems like a perfectly reasonable response. As does following it up by asking, “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

The answer she gets in return is a laugh. Not light and bright like Spark’s laugh, but rather an obnoxious hacking noise that isn’t even slightly charming. If it were anyone else, Blanche would have to ask if they were dying, for the sounds certainly sounded more like that than actual laughter.

Undeterred by the reply, Blanche continues, “It’s two in the morning.”

“Is it,” Candela asks once she’d calmed herself. “My clock says it’s five, well, five-oh-eight.”

“I know you know that time zones are real. Don’t pretend that you don’t.”

“Yeah okay,” Candela’s reply isn’t dismissive. Just that she has a point, a point that clearly was worth calling Blanche this late -  or  _ early _ . “What are you doing Wednesday morning?”

Even in her sleep addled state, Blanche is still well aware of her calendar. A calendar which she keeps updated on a public profile that her fellow team leaders and the professor are all about to see. 

Which makes this phone conversation even more irrelevant. 

She doesn’t mention that. Even though she very much wants to.

“I’m teaching a seminar for first year trainers at nine and then I-”

“So you’re free before nine,” Candela cuts in.

Instinctively Blanche shrugs, before vocalizing a reluctant. “Mostly.”

The “Great,” she gets in return is far too enthusiastic. “I’ve got some ideas for our project. I’ll pick you up at five!”

“Five? Now wait a sec-”

The rest of her words would fall on deaf ears, as a dial tone already greets her. 

Saying  _ Typical Candela  _ didn’t seem fair.

They had only known each other for a month, and yet, Blanche could already tell exactly what type of person Candela was going to be. 

No -

Typical Candela, felt just right. 

\---

When she hears it, the familiar patter of rain against the lab windows. She can’t help but feel excited.

Without saying another word, she stands up from her station, passing by Candela on her way out. The other woman watches her for a moment, before inevitably following. 

“Lunch break,” Candela asks. 

But Blanche doesn’t answer. She has one thing on her mind.

Blanche has always loved the rain.

It connection with some deep part within her. The part of her which had always been inevitably drawn to water pokemon, relishes in the feeling of rain pouring down on her skin. 

She tilts her head back, to allowed the water to fall more fully on her face. She’ll regret this later, when her lab coat is so soaked that it sticks to her wetsuit. However, in the moment she cannot find it in herself to care.

Or more accurately. She would not.

Were in not for the other person she’s caught in the rain with. 

“I might actually melt,” Candela insists. 

When Blanche turns back, the other woman is still standing under the slim archway above the door to the Professor’s laboratory. Her arm clutched tightly around her body, as though attempting to keep her heat as close to her body as possible. 

“You’re not made of sugar,” Blanche points out. 

She’s not about to let Candela ruin the rainstorm. 

No way.

No how. 

“I might be.”

Blanche snorts. Ignoring her.

This of course does not deter Candela.

“You know, this is why I took a job in California, because it wasn’t ever supposed to rain,” Candela continues, “Nice dry beaches and deserts, and none of this endless rain nonsense.” 

Blanche could point out that this was the first rain they’d had in months, but it wasn’t worth the effort. 

“You should see Seattle,” she says instead. A hint of longingness betraying her tone. She missed it. The city she had called her home up until a year ago when her research had brought her to one of Professor Willow’s seminars, and well - the rest had been history. 

The thought of that.

The lecture hall in which she’d first met the Professor, causes her to speak up without thinking - interrupting Candela’s still ongoing tirade about the rain. 

“Why did you decide to take the job?”

Candela’s surprised, “What,” is not nearly as much of a shock as it could have been.

Their brains functioned on different wavelengths. 

“You said you didn’t come to California for the rain, so why did you?” 

Though there’s water falling into her face, she can still clearly see the way Candela shrugs. Her shoulders bobbing up and down. 

“You ever been to the South?”

Blanche wants to chide her for answering a question with a question.

It’s poor form.

But she supposed Candela must have a point, she usually does. 

So instead she answers, “Once. For a research opportunity, we were studying the-”

“Yeah okay, sounds exciting,” Candela cuts her off. “But did you ever go into any of the small towns, talk with the locals, get a real feel for the place, ignore the endless stretch of nothing but Pidgeys for miles?” 

Blanche shakes her head. “We mostly stuck to the city. 

“Exactly.” 

\---

“And then she just-”

“You know,” Spark drawls. His voice turning a one syllable word into a five syllable word. “You’ve been talking about Candela an awful lot.”

“No,” she says, probably a bit too quickly.

Especially if Spark’s knowing look is anything to judge by. 

She pointedly ignores him and tips her beer back. 

“It’s only because we’re working on the charity day together.” 

“That sounds fake, but okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi Serious, I’m Spark.” 

She glares at him until he gives in. Laughing under his breath. 

“Sorry, that joke was bad,” Spark admits. “I’m just saying - you do realize that you like Candela, right? Like like.”

“Not like like,” Blanche insists. Cringing inwardly at the terrible vocab. “I suppose, I tolerate her, because we’re working together but that’s it.” 

“Mhmm, keep telling yourself that.”

\---

This is all Spark’s fault.

One hundred percent his fault.

Because now all Blanche can seem to do is watch Candela with careful precision, cataloguing each move she makes. Each expression. Each comment. Overanalyzing. 

So maybe she doesn’t hate Candela anymore.

Maybe she doesn’t resent the fact that the Professor pulled someone out of the underground fight clubs and thrust them into an academic setting.

But that doesn’t mean that she  _ like likes  _ her. 

The truth is Candela is aesthetically pleasing. 

Close to Blanche’s ideal type. 

And according to Spark, Candela goes both ways so- 

So that means she has a chance.

If she was interested. 

Which she most certainly is not.

Not at all. 

“You’re staring at me.” 

“I’m not,” Blanche says. Too quickly. It’s obviously a lie, even if she and Candela weren’t currently making eye contact across the lab space. 

She hears Spark on her side of the lab, laughing under his breath.

She wishes he was close enough to kick. 

She’ll get him back later.

“I am,” Blanche corrects. “I was just admiring your hair. It’s very nice today.”

Candela seems startled by the compliment. As though she was not expecting it, and for once the obnoxious self confidence and fiery attitude seems to flicker for a moment, both with confusion but with pleasure. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mystic.”

\---

“Do you need anything from the Mart?”

Blanche’s got a phone cradled between her shoulder and her ear. Pushing the cart one handed while Go follows along behind her. Technically it would be easier to let Go push the cart, but he’d failed to successfully manage a tight turn and Blanche waits for no man. 

Candela’s voice carries through the phone, “Potions? Lots of potions? Like twenty potions?”

Blanche sighs.

Not exactly an exasperated sigh but something else.

Something Blanche does not want to acknowledge. 

“Do I even want to know?”

“Uh,” Candela pauses. “No, probably not.”

“But you’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?”

“You know me too well,” Candela says. “So there’s this place, down off Highland, not in like the bad part of Hollywood, but in the part that’s just a little bit sketchy. Kinda near the youth hostel.”

“I’m going to pretend I know where that is so that you get to the point.” 

Go laughs behind her. 

She shoots him something not unlike a glare, before mouthing the words  _ twenty potions  _ in his general direction. The trainer takes the hint, leaving Candela alone in the aisle as he goes off in search of them. 

Without the company of Go, she turns into the next aisle and stops the cart so she can properly focus on what Candela is saying. 

“So I found these trainers, dynamic duo, twins, it’s real cool shit - and of course, I had to battle them.”

“Of course,” Blanche echoes sarcastically. 

Her sarcasm is lost on Candela. “I think I convinced them to come to our event. Put on an exhibition for double battles. Speaking of which - you wouldn’t happen to want to be my second, would you? Because I kind of already mentioned that I was going to have you with me, and well they’re both certain you’re going to be easy to beat.”

Candela volunteering her for a battle isn’t as surprising as the fact that these twins apparently think that she’ll be  _ easy to beat _ . 

“Pardon?”

“Well, you’re Mystic, and all. Everyone knows Team Valor is better at this sort of thing.”

“In what universe exactly is that?”

“Every universe.” 

Blanche rolls her eyes.

The effect of which is lost on Candela since she’s miles away. 

Instead of bothering with responding to that, she grabs a bottle of wine off of the shelf in front of her. And changes the topic. “You busy later tonight?” 

\---

“I’m wanna be the very best, like no one ever was!”

“Bun Bun Bah!”

“To catch them is my real test, to train them is my cause!”

“Buh Do Do!” 

“I will travel cross the - the fuck- searching far and wide!”

“Bun Bun Bah!”

“Someone’s drunk,” Blanche says. Cutting off Candela and Spark’s duet of awfulness. “And by someone I mean both of you. Both of you are very drunk.”

Her words cause Candela to butcher the next line of the song, letting out a string of awful laughter instead intermixed with curses instead.

Spark’s terrible attempt at pretending to be musical instruments continues vaguely in the background. Until she’s certain that he’s not even making the right tune anymore. Not that he was in the first place.

“You’re just jealous.”

“I am not  _ jealous _ ,” Blanche insists. “I’m not even sure what I would be jealous of.”

“Of my amazing singing skills,” Candela sings the last word as though to prove her point. The sound coming off pitch. 

Tone deaf.

That would be the nicest way to describe it. 

She jokingly moves her hands up to cover her ears. It won’t block anything out. It's the thought that counts.

When Candela reaches up to grab at her hands, Blanche tries not to startle, tries not to react to the feeling of Candela’s hands against her own. If anything, she blames in on the wine in her system. The liquid warmth spreading through her and making it easier with each passing moment for Blanche too see Candela as more than just an attractive rival. 

Dear Mew - When was the last time she had even considered Candela as a rival?

“I kind of want to kiss you right now.”

This time it’s Candela’s turn to say, “You’re drunk.” 

A point which the logical part of Blanche’s brain cannot deny. 

“I think I’ll still want to when I’m sober.” 

Candela drops her hand.

It’s like the fire within her is extinguished. 

“We’ve got one more week till our event. Let’s not mess things up before then, okay?”

\---

Blanche wakes up with a hangover, and two missed calls from Candela.

She ignores both of them. 

Instead fumbling for the advil in her nightstand. 

This was exactly why she normally stuck to beer.

\---

“Thanks for dropping me off at the airport,” Spark says. 

“Us,” Go corrects from the backseat, where he’s promptly ignored. 

“As the only one out of all of us with a car,” Blanche says, “It’s basically my duty to drive you to the airport.”

Spark just grins at her. Undeterred by the anxious energy she has been radiating all week. 

It’s just because the event is this weekend. She always gets anxious whenever they’re about to pull something like this off, because for all of her careful planning and logical conclusions, there’s no way to determine how people will act once put into the situation. 

People were her least favorite variable. 

Followed closely by the mysterious seasonal appearance of Pikachu’s in Santa hats.

“You’ll do fine. You and Candela have been planning this thing for like ages.”

“Two months.”

“Ages,” Spark insists. “And it’s going to be so amazing that you’ll never want to work with me again. You’ll kick me to the curb.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing now,” Blanche asks. Gesturing the loading zone of the airport. 

Spark laughs. Her jokes doesn’t have to even be funny, but he’ll always laugh.

“I’m going to miss you, Blanche.”

“It’s one weekend.”

“One weekend in Texas, and probably the most important weekend ever here. The weekend when you finally give into your feelings and-”

“Yeah, the kicking you to the curb thing is definitely happening right now.”

\---

The charity event goes off without a hitch.

Two months of preparation.

A week of worrying over the details.

Far too many minutes in close proximity to Candela.

And it all comes together.

Quite possibly the best event that they have ever put on. 

“This calls for a celebration,” Candela insists. 

“Drinks,” Blanche offers. Looking around to find the Professor and grab him as well. After all, drinks was a group celebration sort of thing. Even without Spark and Go here to enjoy them. 

Though before she can head off in his direction, Candela grabs her wrist. 

“What is it?”

Candela shrugs, though her grip on her wrist is steady. Not that Blanche minds. Not at all. 

“As fun as drinks are, there’s something else I had in mind?”

“Oh?”

“Oh yeah,” Candela says, that smirk like grin back on her face.

It happens so fast that Blanche barely has time to think, but when her brain catches up with her she can’t find it in her to mind.  Not when Candela is kissing her, with a passion that is so uniquely her and so something that Blanche has been craving for far too long.

Logic dictates that Blanche should kiss her back, so she does.

Does the one thing she’s been wanting for longer than she’s even been able to admit.

Kissing her back is easy. 

Natural. 

The greatest thing she’s done in a long while.

She could do it for the rest of her life. 

The kiss breaks apart too soon for Blanche’s liking, only their need for air pulling them apart. 

It’s there in the shallow space between their lips she whispers, “Oh that kind of celebration.”

\---

“You owe me ten Pokecoins.” 

“I do not.” 

“Blanche, we made a bet!”

“I remember doing no such thing.”

“Yeah okay, we didn’t, but the second you girls met - it was basically a mental bet. One that you totally owe me for.” 

“Spark, I’m hanging up now.”

“Ten Pokecoins!”

 


End file.
